


Beyond a Moment

by DiscoFan88



Category: How to Get Away with Murder, Scandal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Black Character(s), Crossover, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, F/F, Healing, Healing Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jazz - Freeform, Pansexual Character, Singing, Social Justice, Trauma, black women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoFan88/pseuds/DiscoFan88
Summary: “Anna Mae Harkness, get your Black a** over here and make love to me.”----First and foremost, Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder are the intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes and Peter Nowalk respectively. No profit shall be made from this work. It is intended as an homage and kiki only.I wrote this because a lot of people have asked me, what would it look like for Annalise to win, AKA rise above the violence? Maybe that’s not the show we want to watch. Maybe we tune in because of the drama. But I do think the answer to the former question would necessarily involve the intervention of another powerful Black woman. And that is Olivia Pope.
Relationships: Annalise Keating/Olivia Pope
Kudos: 11





	1. Anna Mae Harkness

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after The Need To Feel Real.

Anna Mae Harkness

Summary: “Anna Mae Harkness, get your Black ass over here and make love to me.”

Annalise usually hated being called Anna Mae. She tolerated her family referring to her as such. That was understandable. But the name brought her back to that little girl in Memphis who felt ugly all the time. 

And yet, when Olivia said it, it sounded different. She spoke of Anna Mae Harkness as if she were a heroine. Lifting herself out of poverty, breaking the colorline, smashing misogynistic expectations. 

Olivia would lapse into what Annalise now called an Anna Mae Monologue whenever things got tough, or Annalise’s cynicism outweighed her optimism. Whether it was being the first Black girl to win the Tennessee Debate-Off, being first in her class in undergrad, or gaining a scholarship to Harvard Law. Olivia would always come up with some great feat accomplished by this mythical Anna Mae Harkness. And suddenly, being Anna Mae didn’t feel so bad anymore. All the things that Annalise hated most about herself were the things that Olivia had come to revere. 

And that scared Annalise. 

Which is why she was so nervous when Olivia called on Friday. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Annalise! Listen, I’m headed to Philly a day early. Now, I can always stay at a hotel for a day, I know I said I’d be arriving Saturday. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m not teaching any Friday afternoon classes this semester.”

“Okay, I’ll be there around 6PM.”

“See you then.”

Annalise had upgraded her apartment. Was teaching a practicum on juvenile law and working towards building her own practice. Things were going well, so why was she so nervous all the time? 

All good things in her life were fleeting. That scarcity mentality she couldn’t shake. 

The doorbell rang as Annalise was cooking dinner. 

Olivia walked in jovially. “It smells good! How are you?”

“I’m well,” Annalise said, giving Olivia a firm hug. 

“Now, I’ve got breakfast covered. It’s the least I can do to make up for my sudden appearance.”

“You don’t have to make up for anything!” Annalise said as she returned to the kitchen. 

Annalise was cooking in silence while Olivia read Black Power by Stokely Carmichael and Charles Hamilton. Occasionally she would huff, sigh or nod. 

“How’s your book?” Annalise asked. 

“Well, let’s just say my Father’s idea of Black Power is not historically accurate.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve only met the man once. But he seems pretty pro-establishment.”

“My Father is the establishment!”

“He as scary as you make him out to be?” Annalise asked.

“That’s classified.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Mama called yesterday. She said, ‘When you see the lady from the TV, tell her I say hi!’”

Olivia smiled wide. “Give her my regards as well!”

“Will do.” Annalise slipped back into silence. “Sorry I’m not being very social.” 

“It’s your apartment! You don’t have to entertain me. Besides, I know you’re a simultaneous processor.”

“A simultaneous what?”

“You process your thoughts by doing something with your hands.”

“Yeah, better than drinking myself silly. Dinner is ready by the way.”

Olivia set the table elegantly. The two discussed politics over teriyaki chicken, coconut rice, kale and chilled hibiscus. The latter being used as a replacement for red wine as Olivia didn’t feel comfortable bringing wine into a recovering alcoholic’s abode. Though Annalise had insisted it didn’t bother her.

“Governor Burkehead sounds like an awful crone of a woman!” Olivia exclaimed. 

“She’s duplicitous and fork-tongued to say the least,” Annalise said. “So many of my defendants are minors who were charged as adults. The least she could do is allow their cases to be reopened. But of course, she’s resistant. But she’s marketing herself as a moderate Republican.”

“She is the bane of Mellie’s existence. And I don’t blame her. She’s a traitor to women everywhere!”

“How so?”

“As if it isn’t heinous enough that she opposes workplace protections on the basis of race, ability and sexuality, she opposes workplace protections on the basis of sex and gender as well. Sex and gender!”

“Well, she has a lot of big time CEOs in her pocket,” Annalise explained. 

“Workplace protections is Mellie’s legacy project. Needless to say, everytime we talk, she’s always mentioning how much she abhors that woman’s politics.”

“You endorse Republican-on-Republican crime?”

“If it gets the job done, yes.”

“You’ve become quite the activist.”

“I am not an activist. I just believe in doing what’s right.”

“In other words, you’re an activist,” Annalise observed as Olivia rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’ve changed.” 

“Life is change,” Olivia said, gazing contemplatively at her glass of hibiscus. 

“Spoken like a true Virgo,” Annalise said. She didn’t much believe in astrology, but couldn’t resist any chance to make fun of Olivia. 

The other woman rolled her eyes. “I’ve got the dishes. Just let me change,” she said, giving Annalise a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thank you,” Annalise said bashfully.

\---------

Olivia sat on Annalise’s bed in a warm gray sweater and matching sweatpants. In repose. Enticing. Seductive, yet calm and patient. 

Annalise stood opposite the bed. “Listen Olivia, I’m… scared.”

“Of what? Governor Burkehead?”

“No, of you.”

“Of me?”

“Not of you. At the idea of you… loving me.”

“We don’t have to do anything. I can sleep on the couch.”

Annalise could only smile. Chic, high toned Olivia Pope was willing to forgo sleeping in a comfy bed just for her sake. 

“I’m all for women claiming their space. Or we could just fall asleep next to each other. We could head-to-toe it,” Olivia said with a mischievous grin. 

Annalise laughed. “I don’t need space. I need clarity. I know we both have other things going on. Namely, Nate and the 44th President of the United States. But… what if things don’t work out between us? Do I lose a friend and a lover?” the older woman asked. 

“You’ll lose a lover. But not a friend. Never that. I enjoy being close to you. That means more to me than sex. Though the sex helps,” Olivia said cheekily, her eyes now wide with mischief. 

“Lord!” Annalise exclaimed. 

“You always fret,” Olivia observed, her face narrow and discerning. “You’re a worrier.”

“Yes, very much so!”

“Oh, I can relate,” Olivia said, nodding her head softly, eyes full of the same concern she had worn when Annalise broke down in the Supreme Court. 

A moment of silence. The two women all of a sudden distant, though they were in the same room.

Annalise opened her mouth, gently closing the gap, bringing them both back face-to-face. 

“I want you. In this moment I want you.”

“I want you too,” Olivia said, reassuringly. “We can take things moment to moment. But my friendship is consistent. That extends beyond a moment. That’s eternal.”

Tears welled in Annalise’s eyes. “I feel the same way.”

Another moment of silence. “God, I want you. Okay, let’s do this.”

\------  
Annalise changed and when she emerged, Olivia was already playing Billie Holiday through the speakers. 

Ain’t nobody’s business, if I do.

“Sorry for my appearance,” Annalise said. She was wrapped in a blue robe, matching silk head wrap. Her cheek resting against her hand, the way it did when she was anxious. 

“No one is concerned with your appearance!” Olivia said deliberately. Her voice crescendoed. “The Annalise I know does not apologize for her presence. The Annalise I know shows up, and shows up fully.” Olivia’s voice ebbed as she said, “That’s all I want.”

Ain’t nobody’s business, if I do. 

“Now, I would have washed the sheets, but I didn’t expect you-”

“Anna Mae Harkness,” Olivia interrupted, “get your Black ass over here and make love to me!”

“Yes, ma’am! I will do just that.”


	2. Olivia Carolyn Pope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this chapter contains brief mention of suicide as well as physical abuse. Thank you for bearing with me. There is healing to be had in the last chapter. 
> 
> I would also like to mention that, as always, the following love scene was written under duress. Seriously, the fact that I even had to write the word “orgasm” is against my every sensibility. But, give the people what they want, I guess.

“Annalise, my luxury.”

Olivia Pope was quite the smooth talker. Not only could the woman drive a mean political bargain, she was thoroughly versed in the art of pillow talk. Which was funny, because both women usually hated taking during sex. But, as Annalise swiftly pointed out, it was just because men have nothing interesting to say. 

But Olivia had plenty to say. And her words were simultaneously empowering and sensual. 

“I love how curvaceous you are,” Olivia whispered. “I want to worship every curve of your body,” which she proceeded to do with her tongue, nimble in speech and pleasure. She took refuge in Annalise’s dark skin. Found liberation in every, “Oooo, girl!” and “Yes, queen!” that rushed forth from Annalise’s mouth like song. 

When Annalise tried to use her weight advantage to turn Olivia onto her back, Olivia protested. She straddled Annalise, grounding her knees into the bed. 

It’s too darn hot!

They had moved from Lady Day to Ella Fitzgerald. 

“You already got your turn,” Olivia said, kissing Annalise deeply on the lips. 

As Olivia finessed her right knee into position between Annalise’s legs, Annalise grabbed onto her backside. 

“Girl, you gotta shelf booty. It gets me every time!”

“What’s a shelf booty?” Olivia asked skeptically. 

“As in, I could shelve a whole box of case files on that thang.”

“Oh. In that case, grab on. Don’t be shy. Enjoy the ride,” Olivia said with a slight roll of her neck, smiling into the older woman’s mouth. 

“Girl!”

“Yep, mmm-hmmm, uh-huh,” Olivia replied, obviously feeling herself as much as she was feeling the other woman. 

Olivia enjoyed giving. She was used to receiving. Or rather taking it, tolerating it, acting it out. Especially on days when Fitz was lackluster. The ever faithful accessory to his white male desire. But she was born to give of herself and receive in kind. 

She started slow. Fingers slim and refined inside of Annalise. Her mouth trailing the protruding flesh of Annalise’s stomach. Yet another thing the other woman hated and she loved. She followed the map of Annalise’s stretch marks, her cesarean scar, her bullet wound. All the topography of the younger woman’s desire.

Olivia was a masseuse. Coaxing release with each orgasm. And with each orgasm another muscle group relaxed. The length of the older woman’s spine restored, starting with her sacrum and moving upward. In fact, Olivia worked all night until every muscle in the lawyer’s body had released all of that tension. 

Everytime Annalise would try and reverse their positions, Olivia would resolutely refuse. “Nope, let me do this for you,” Olivia said, kissing Annalise fiercely, grinning as the older woman giggled shyly. Olivia’s mouth moved downward, lips, tongue, teeth working at the collar of tension around Annalise’s neck.

Hours later and both women were spent, falling asleep almost immediately. 

\---------- 

Annalise was first to wake. Which was rare. She looked over at Olivia. Rays of sunshine cascading across the brown shade of her back. She wanted to reach out and touch Olivia. But the woman practically did not sleep. Annalise was a tosser and turner, but Olivia just lay there still. Quiet but you could still feel it. Deep in the throes of some trauma that felt foreign yet familiar to Annalise. 

A lot of the details of Olivia’s life were an, “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you” sort of affair. Which Annalise accepted. She had enough mess to deal with anyways. But the older woman worried about her friend. 

Which is was why it was such a lovely sight. Those precious moments when Olivia finally got the deep rest she deserved. Annalise had to be careful. She didn’t want to disrupt the younger woman’s sleep. 

She slinked out of bed to get ready for the day. When she returned from her shower, Olivia was already awake. 

“I’m sorry, if I woke you.” 

“You didn’t wake me,” Olivia said cheerfully. She laid against the headrest and gave Annalise a slightly seductive look. 

“You know, we have some time on our hands. You can sleep in, if you want.”

“Oh, trust me, I feel thoroughly rejuvenated after last night,” Olivia replied. She gazed at Annalise in a way that made the lawyer feel bashful. Olivia was clearly still reveling from last night. 

Olivia put on a robe and went to use the bathroom, but not before giving Annalise a firm kiss. Annalise sat at her mirror, getting ready to pick out her baby fro. When she looked back up into the mirror, she saw Olivia’s reflection. Her smile wide, her body leaning forward, anticipatory. 

“What’s got you feeling so happy?” the older woman asked. 

“Can I do your hair?” As soon as she said it, Olivia took a step back, recoiling into herself. “Sorry, is that weird?”

“No,” Annalise said reassuringly. “It would actually save me a great deal of trouble. But I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother. I love doing hair!” Olivia cheerfully replied. 

“Really?” Annalise asked, sitting at the foot of the bed as Olivia slid behind her. 

“I do mine everyday. This hair doesn’t lay itself! I go to the salon every now and then. But I’ve been doing hair since I was eight years old.”

“Eight years old!” Annalise could not picture tawny, elite Olivia Pope doing hair at eight. She surely had a nanny to do that for her. 

“I had to raise myself. My Mom died when I was 12. But even before then, she… let’s just say she had other things on her mind. My Dad was certainly no help. So, I read books on how to do hair.” 

“You’re like Nate,” Annalise said. “ You’re an autodidact.”

“An auto- what?”

“You can teach yourself skills without demonstration. Straight from books. Like how you learned to cook.”

“It’s literally called a cookbook.”

“But you go above and beyond. Like that time you wanted to cook rabbit. I thought like, from the local market. You showed up with two rabbits that you skinned yourself!”

“They were skinned on a farm by Marcus’ friend. Who, by the way, runs the largest ancestrally Black-owned farm in Southeastern Pennsylvania. She would be a perfect person to talk to about that diversion program Michaela suggested.”

Olivia gently tapped Annalise’s shoulder for emphasis. Annalise could only laugh. Olivia was always on the case. Even in moments of leisure. 

“Okay, but you pulled those rabbits out that cooler and deboned them, roasted them perfectly. And that bangin’ sauce! With the caramelized onions and tomatoes. But I’m not going to lie, I’ve seen some stuff. I was scared when you revealed those knives.”

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you!” Olivia said, chuckling. “Turn your head to the side for me?”

“So you’ve been using a flat iron since you were eight,” Annalise pondered. 

“More than a flatiron. I went natural in college. Before that I had braids.” 

“I cannot picture Olivia Pope with braids.” 

“All the Black girls at my boarding school came to me to get their braids done,” Olivia said proudly. “Granted, there were only three of us. I was one of two in my grade.”

Annalise straightened in her seat. It wasn’t often that Olivia spoke of her childhood. “Who was the other girl?”

“Angelique. She was the daughter of a Francophone diplomat from Cameroon. At first we were really competitive, but then we found we had a lot in common, so we grew into friends.”

“Sounds familiar,” Annalise smugly intoned. “What was boarding school like?” 

“Boring mostly…” Olivia paused as if mulling over an old memory. “Restrictive. Turn your head again.”

Annalise felt an odd comfort in the way Olivia picked her hair from the root. She enjoyed the backwards pull at the crown of her head. “How so?” she asked. 

“We had a dress code. Angelique and I were always getting in trouble. We would…” Olivia began giggling. “This is embarrassing. We would steal our Fathers’ watches and melt them down.”

“Where?”

“The kilns for pottery class. It was mandatory. Boarding school is weird.”

“What did you make with the gold? Chains?” Annalise asked. 

“Barrettes, hair pins, sometimes necklaces. I would alter our skirts and add a gold chain as a belt. The old white ladies on the disciplinary board hated us. We got demerits. Thank goodness my grades were good. But I understand, a code is a code.”

“Sounds like some anti-Black bullshit to me,” Annalise stated plainly. 

Another silence. “What happened to her?” 

“She died,” Olivia said softly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Annalise replied. 

“Her grades weren’t very good. I don’t think she was meant to be in school. She was too much of a free spirit. I mean, she was a genius. Good with her hands, consistently writing poetry, always reading. Though it was never anything actually assigned for class. The syllabus was too eurocentric, she said.”

Olivia stopped doing Annalise’s hair for a minute. She looked out the window though it was clear she was gazing into a memory. 

“She was West African. She hated winter. I would always catch her singing in the foothills come spring.” Olivia could picture the thaw of ice, the birds chirping, the mountain mist. Angelique singing into wilderness, a stony peak her throne. Olivia was transported. 

“Her Father didn’t approve of her free spirit. He was forcing her to go to college even though all she wanted was to teach music in her Father’s village. She invited me. Said it was my birthright too.” Olivia looked down warmly as she returned to Annalise’s hair. 

“When her Father found out, he was furious. He was... physically… with her Mother,” Olivia said, reverting into herself. Forcing it out through the pain. “I walked into her room the week before graduation. I had coordinated our outfits for the ceremony. Light blue, floral print, different silhouettes,” Olivia smiled bitterly. “At first I thought she was sleeping. Then I saw the pills… tried CPR...”

Olivia stopped doing Annalise’s hair. Annalise took the opportunity to turn around and take Olivia’s hand in hers. “Angelique lives through you.”

Olivia said solemnly, “I’m… just… grateful that I knew her.”

A moment of silence before Olivia announced, “Okay, last side.”

Annalise gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting Olivia finish her hair in silence.


	3. Outro: The Most Important Kind of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised there is healing to be had. 
> 
> I also just want to point out that on mainstream television, it is more common to see two Black women tear each other down than it is to see them love and heal with each other. I’ve seen Black women fight over (white) men far too many times. I also think it’s pretty clear from what we’ve seen on this latest season of HTGAWM that two Black women together is a no-no. Seriously, Annalise can get with Eve, but can’t be with Tegan? That’s pretty telling. 
> 
> That said, this fanfic serves as a corrective to that sort of logic. Thank you for reading.

After doing Annalise’s hair, Olivia sat on the bed, looking over the day’s schedule. “We don’t have to be there until 1:30PM. And it’s… 8:30AM now. Good,” she whispered to herself. 

Annalise could see her calculating the day’s itinerary in her head. Her poise the veil shielding her vulnerabilities from the world. But Annalise had learned to give Olivia breathing room to process her own emotions. Which is why she got ready in silence while Olivia got her mind right. It was seldom that Olivia shared her story. And the lawyer could see her silently struggling to pull herself back to the present. 

As Olivia put her phone down she sighed. She looked out the window. Her mind slipping back to Angelique, her abduction, Harrison’s funeral, killing Andrew Nichols, back to Angelique. Her brain a ball of fire. 

She was still trying to tame that fire as Annalise sat next to her. Annalise turned and gave her an understanding look. As if she could sense the chaos in Olivia’s head. Olivia expected her to speak, but instead she gently tugged the younger woman’s arm and pulled her into an embrace. 

She held Olivia’s head against her bosom, the way her Mama did whenever she visited Memphis. Annalise understood something about Olivia Pope that few people cared to notice. This was a woman who had known unspeakable riches, the highest success, real political power. But what did any of that matter if she had never known the sanctuary of a loving mother’s arms?

It was a question Olivia asked herself plenty. And as Annalise took her into her arms, her breath hitched. She let out a shocked, “Oh,” as she realized how strange yet necessary it felt. 

Annalise could feel the other woman breathe in shallow huffs. Afraid to let it out. So she kissed Olivia right on her crown and smiled as she felt the fixer’s body relax, a wave of tears, emotions set free. She rocked gently as Olivia sobbed out a decades old woe. 

After a few minutes she could feel Olivia revert back into her calm collected self. She wanted to tell her to take her time. That it was okay to externalize the turmoil of her body. To wrath and wail. To curse fate. She wanted to tell her it was okay. That she herself had done so frequently in this very room. 

But she was patient with Olivia. She knew these things take time. 

“I care about you Olivia,” Annalise said. Then, without thinking, she said, “Olivia, I love you.” Her eyes widened almost immediately. “Before you freak out,” she rambled, “I know you don’t like feeling trapped in a relationship. Given my track record, I’m not sold on the idea of monogamy myself.”

“No, Annalise,” Olivia said without a pause, “I love you too.” She looked at the other woman earnestly. “Friends can love each other. In fact, sometimes I think the love between friends is the most important kind.” 

And with that, Olivia caressed Annalise’s cheek. She looked at her as if searching for something. Annalise was a bit worried at first, but when she finally met Olivia’s eye, the fixer smiled warmly. And then their lips were pressed together. Olivia found Annalise’s body to be warm and receptive. Annalise’s soul was as full as her arms. Olivia’s vitality reverberated through both women as they kissed passionately. Olivia’s hand grazed Annalise’s hair, which was enough to snap both women out of it. 

“Sorry,” Olivia said chuckling. She wiped her tears away. 

“It’s okay,” Annalise said. “Are you okay? I can cook breakfast if you want.”

“Oh no! I can still do that,” Olivia said reassuringly.

“You sure?”

“Definitely. It’s sweet of you,” Olivia said wiping away the rest of her tears and giving Annalise a peck on the cheek. “Sweet of you to check in.”

As Annalise got up to finish getting ready, Olivia asked, “You’re wearing your hair natural today?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Annalise said touching her hair. “Didn’t want to cover up your hard work.”

“I appreciate that,” Olivia replied. “You know,” she said, allowing the robe to slide down her shoulders, “I can think of another way to kill all of that extra time we have.”

“Didn’t you get enough last night?”

Olivia responded immediately. “Oh, I never get enough of you.” Her tone shifted and her face narrowed. “You think I’m oversexed?”

“Oh no. I think you’re perfectly sexed!”

“I am America’s mistress afterall,” Olivia said sinking back against the headboard suggestively. 

“Oh my goodness!” Annalise was shocked. 

“Hey, I’m laughing to keep from crying here.”

“Same!” Annalise said, a cheshire grin lighting up her face.

Olivia looked Annalise over once more before yielding. “Okay, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Olivia Carolyn Pope, get your Black ass up and cook us some breakfast so we can start the day.’”

Annalise let out a staccato, “Verbatim.” She gave Olivia a kiss as the fixer rose from bed. 

When one kiss became two and two became three, the lawyer pulled away. 

“Nope, I see what you’re doing. Off with you,” she said, giving her paramour a light tap on the behind with a folder. 

Olivia gave a mischievous grin over shoulder as she entered the bathroom. The sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub preceded the sound of Olivia’s smooth mezzo-soprano. 

“It’s too darn hot…”

Annalise could only laugh. She is so crazy, she thought to herself with a chuckle. The sound of Olivia’s joy was the soundtrack as she steadied herself against the coming day. Eager to face the world with her friend by her side.


End file.
